The Treachery of Images
by StarryDreamer01
Summary: At first glance, things are not as they seem. (Season 4 rewrite... sort of)
1. Chapter 1

A/N: The title of this story comes from a painting by Rene Magritte. If you choose to google it (and read about the meaning of the painting), it'll give you a little clue as to what the intention behind the story is. ;-)

This chapter is a short one. It's meant as a bit of a prologue to the rest.

* * *

-1-

A sharp knock at the door sounds. It is purposeful and demanding and Andy knows exactly who is on the other side. She gives a second glance at the monitoring system. The tiny light, concealed next to a ratty old refrigerator, blinks red indicating that the cameras and sound system are off. She chances a glance at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and hopes that she seems equal parts casual and appealing.

Her fingers deftly turn the three locks. "For your security," her handler, Jacob Blackstone, had explained. "Keep it locked at all times, even when you're inside." A rush of cold air greets her as she opens the door. She sucks in a breath as her planned visitor steps over the threshold, face concealed by a hood.

"You alone?" He asks, his voice a whisper. She nods, her heart quickening ever so slightly.

"Cameras?"

"Off," she replies, closing the door behind him. "Just like last time." She turns each of the locks, securing them inside.

He pulls back the hood of his coat, revealing himself. "When's he coming back?" Her visitor asks as he slides his winter coat from his shoulders and hands it to Andy. It is heavy in her hands and smells of his musky cologne. She would have to hide it in her bedroom closet; the last time she'd stored it in the main hallway the smell had attached itself to Nick's jacket. She can't risk raising his suspicions a second time.

"Tomorrow afternoon. Blackstone's got him on stakeout." He nods his head, his tongue wetting his lips ever so slightly. Andy holds up his jacket. "I'm going to just put this in my room…"

The corners of his lips rise with a small smile that she sees instantly. She gives him a questioning look. He shakes his head and takes the jacket from her and drops it to the floor. "Later," he says. Before she can respond, his cold hands cup her face, pulling her toward him. She tilts her head up and smiles.

"Later…" he repeats, his voice raspy, lips hovering over her own. She nods, arching her body into his and he pulls her roughly against him.

"Sam—," she manages to mutter before his full lips hungrily meet her own, silencing her.

_...To be continued..._

_Would love it if you could leave feedback :)_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Holy moly! I did not expect the amount of people that favourited and commented on the first chapter of Treachery! Thank you! I will let you in on a secret: I'd written that chapter months and months ago and loved it so much but had no idea where to go with it. About 2 weeks ago I had an idea and the rest of the story was born. I'm so glad that I was able to finally share it with you and not let it languish in my "unfinished" folder on my computer. I just hope I can meet your expectations!

* * *

-2-

Three months have passed since Andy last saw Sam. Three months since he'd manhandled her in the foyer of the shit undercover apartment that she shared with Nick and now he's before her, standing in a truck bay. She doesn't know how to read his reaction, it seems understated. She isn't sure what she should've expected; a part of her wants him to throw his arms around her, wants to be able to bury her face into his shoulder and smell his familiar scent again. But Sam Swarek is always the consummate professional and he would never jeopardize that; and so she is left hoping for a second alone with him so she doesn't have to interpret every word and every look shot her way.

She doesn't fully realize how much she misses him until he is inches away from her. There's an ache in her heart as she watches him organize the officers from 15 Division and the Drug Squad. It's strange to see him out of uniform and she guesses that he must've made detective and wonders how long he's been in the position for; wonders if that is the reason why he hadn't contacted her.

He quickly sends her and Nick back to the station, hitching a ride with a new 15 Division officer. The ride over is silent and Andy suspects that Nick is likewise reflecting on the past few months and the rash decisions they made when they agreed to take on the job. She wonders briefly how much life has changed for her friends in the last six months and if it's even possible for things to go back to normal. When the squad car enters the sally port garage, her heart instantly leaps into her throat. The familiarity of the space sends a shiver through her body. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Nick watching her as though he expects her to say something.

They're left to wonder the station as they wait for Blackstone to arrive; there are many old friends who herald their return. It's difficult for Andy as she tries to gather her thoughts. She's happy to see her friends, but at the same time she needs to talk to Sam, needs to find a way to express how much she's missed him. She's grateful when Traci senses her distraction and sends her to the kitchen, her heart beats excitedly as she rounds the corner. She thinks she's figured out the words.

As promised, Sam is in the kitchen, but he's not alone. What she sees before her, standing in front of the coffee machine, turns her stomach. He's kissing Marlo Cruz, the officer that had brought her and Nick back to the station. He's touching her at the waist and pulling her closer; it's like an accident on the highway and Andy can not look away. She is equal parts embarrassed and horrified. She'd thought all along that she'd meant something to this man, and to be confronted so blatantly… Her cheeks redden.

There's a moment when Sam turns and sees her and she thinks for a brief second that she'll wake up from some cruel nightmare. Instead, she hears Blackstone's voice and it all becomes very real.

…

Oliver is right, she never gives up, but even she can figure when she's been beaten. She'd started the day believing that she had a chance, that she could win back Sam Swarek. Her conversation with him in his truck the other day had led her to believe that there was still hope, that maybe she could bring things back to the way they were. That maybe it was just a matter of time and a mistake on his behalf.

All of her plans, however come crashing down around her when she sees Sam walking Marlo to her car. It hits her then: he cares about this woman. It breaks her heart, but she realizes that trying to win him back is probably a fruitless endeavour.

…

Andy's on her second coffee and her shift hasn't even begun. Her night had been sleepless as she spent most of it tossing and turning wondering if she'd made the right decision in leaving for the UC job. She's mentally gone over every word, every look, every moment between her and Sam seeking out answers. In a panic, somewhere around two in the morning, she'd called Nick. In good humour despite hour, he'd reassured her and reminded her that she and Sam had been separated for a long time, that they'd never gotten their issues resolved, that it's not like he came looking for her, nor did she go back to Toronto to see him. Besides wasn't she most critical about how Sam was so closed off?

She'd wanted to tell him about the secret meet ups, about how Sam had tracked her down through his connections in Drug Squad and how she'd hung around every weekend because she thought he'd signal for her. But thought the better of it. Instead, she'd reluctantly agreed with his assessment and wished him a good night, no better off than when she'd first called him.

Andy squints in the brightness of the hallway at 15. She wonders if it's aways been that bright or if the building custodians made them brighter on purpose to torture her. She takes a sip from her coffee and relishes in the smooth taste as it travels down her throat.

Yelling from the bullpen catches her attention. There are a few officers standing around pretending to be busy, trying to listen in. Curiosity gets the better of her, and with coffee in hand she pushes through the cluster of officers and detours to Traci's desk.

"What's going on?" she asks, motioning toward Frank's office. "What are they fighting about?" Sam's hands are gesturing wildly and she can only make out a few words, nothing that abates her interest.

One thing is very certain: Sam is furious.

"They've been going at it for about 10 minutes," Traci says, putting a file into a nearby cabinet. "It sounds like some case that Frank wants Swarek on, but I can't make heads or tails of it." Andy knows Sam can be passionate when it comes to certain cases, but she can't recall a time where he'd looked so angry with Frank.

"You'd think it'd be easier to hear yelling from an office with a glass wall," Andy reflects with a smirk.

Traci laughs. "Maybe it's soundproof glass?"

Andy chuckles and continues to watch as Sam pulls the door open in a huff, his voice carrying throughout the bullpen. "You've fucked me over, Frank. I'm telling you, you need to end this." He storms down from the mezzanine where Frank's office sits, oblivious to the officers who have been watching the argument unfold.

"You'd better get to parade," Traci says warningly. "I have a feeling Frank is not going to be in the mood for anyone that's late."

_...To be continued..._

_Please leave a review if you can! _


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: First thank you for so many of the wonderful reviews and follows. You can't imagine how much they mean and have meant to me. Secondly, with regards to this chapter, I want to remind you that _this is not a pipe._ )

* * *

-3-

A month passes and Andy thinks that maybe she's going to be okay. Traci encourages her to get out and date again, it's the same advice she gave when Andy broke up with Luke. This time though, she doesn't have the heart. For so long she'd had a vision of the future and it had included Sam. To have to let go of that vision is hard and even after a month, she's not sure that she's there yet. She's no longer suffering from the sleepless nights, but there are moments when she'll brush past Sam and it feels as though an electric current passes through her body. She wonders if he feels it too because there are times when he'll stop and give her a look. Andy has to force herself not to read into it, figures that it's just a figment of her imagination.

One day Nick asks her out on a date. She's sick to her stomach over it, but accepts just the same. They're friends, they certainly played the part of a couple while undercover, maybe it could work in real life? Traci excitedly cheers her on. _Everyone loves Nick! Don't worry about Gail, she's already moved on! Have you seen that jaw? _

Reluctantly she meets him at a bistro on Davenport. He sweetly brings her flowers and she can see that he's trying, that he really wants to make an effort. But her own heart just isn't in it. The conversation flows easily, she laughs and generally enjoys herself. The meal is delicious and when Nick pays, it seals it in her mind that they are in fact on a date.

When he walks her back to her apartment, she wishes him goodnight. She's about to turn and put her key in the lock when he kisses her. It's a chaste kiss and it catches her by surprise. When they part, she smiles, thanks him and tells him she'll see him at work tomorrow. She doesn't invite him inside and she can see that he's disappointed.

She changes into an old Seneca College t-shirt and the sleeves hang well past her elbows. It doesn't occur to her that it isn't her own tattered t-shirt, but a long forgotten one left behind by Sam. She crawls into bed and there's a stinging behind her eyes and a hollow feeling within her chest. She feels guilt-ridden, but knows innately that she shouldn't.

They are no longer together, she can date whomever she wants.

Nick asks her out again the next day. She decides to ignore her own advice and says no.

…

One morning, Andy sleeps in through her alarm and arrives late to parade. Frank's off with the flu and Sam's filling in at the podium. When she sheepishly walks in, he draws the room's attention to her and publicly chastises her for her tardiness. His frown and stern expression cause her face to redden and she mutters an apology. It's to no avail, as he banishes her to bookings. She pretends she doesn't see the smug look on Marlo's face.

"What's with your ex-boyfriend?" Gail asks Andy as she's settling in behind the bookings desk. "Lately he's been a total nightmare and you need to fix that."

Andy gives her a look. "Not my problem anymore, Gail," she says warningly. "He's someone else's. Talk to _her_ about his miserable-ness."

Gail raises her eyebrows. "Rude," she says, moving toward the sallyport door. "You need to get laid, McNally. Just sayin'." She salutes Andy with two fingers at her forehead and pushes her way through the door.

Andy shakes her head and begins to organize the desk and log into the database. She silently prays for the day to be slow.

…

Andy's prayers come true and there are few collars to be processed. She's putting a prostitute into a holding cell when she sees Sam enter into the room. He looks quickly over his shoulder and waves her to the desk.

Cautiously, she approaches. "What's up?" Andy asks, taking her seat.

He leans over her shoulder, his lips inches from her ear and mutters, "I need a favour." She quells a shiver that is desperate to run the length of her spine. "Yeah?"

He flattens a sheet of paper in front of her. "I need you to keep this secret. Just report to me. Not to Traci. Not to anyone, okay?"

She nods, curious. It's been a while since they've worked a case together. "Yeah, sure."

"I need you to locate any Toronto connections to the Maras in Montreal. It's a drug cartel. Look for family, known associates, business partners, anything that comes up." He looks over his shoulder as though he's afraid that someone is listening in. "The sooner you can find it, the better. Okay?"

She nods again. "Sure."

He rests his hand on her arm and his thumb makes a light circle against her skin. It's as though he has something else to add but thinks better of it and says instead, "Thanks Andy." He removes his hand and turns, leaving her alone at the bookings desk.

She lightly rubs her arm where his hand had been and picks up the sheet of paper. On it are a list of names.

_Alvarez, Merino, Cruz, Sanchez, Rubino, Salerno, Cossimo. _

Andy turns to the computer and starts to go through the list, typing in each name and compiling the names of known associates.

…

Sam is on the phone when she drops the folder on his desk hours later. She found a few connections, but she's not sure which would interest him the most.

"Lemme call you back," he says, putting the phone back on the receiver. He swivels on the chair and leans back, his finger pressing at the top of a retractable pen. "What'd'ya find?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "There's a few connections in there. You can cross Sanchez, Merino and Cossimo off though because their connections are more Vancouver based. But the others have solid work ups."

He nods, looking down at the folder and then back up at Andy. His eyes crinkle at their corners. "Thank you."

Andy moves for the door, but has a second thought. "There's one more thing," she says. "I mean, it's none of my business. I wasn't going…' She pauses and gathers her thoughts. "Anyways. There's a connection you might be interested in seeing." She flips the folder open and shuffles through a few of the pages. She stops at the one she's looking for. "There," Andy points to the page. "It's probably nothing. But…" she shrugs. "Just the same."

Sam's eyes follow Andy's finger to the papers before him. He nods and says nothing until, "I know. Thanks."

She offers a small smile and as she's leaving the room, Sam calls out to her. "Sorry about this morning."

"It's fine. I was late. Fair game."

His face softens and he leans forward in his chair. "It'll make sense. Soon, hopefully." She stares at him, confused. She wants to question him further, but he turns in his chair, picks up the phone and begins dialling out, silencing her.

_...To be continued..._

_Please leave a review if you can! _


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Wow. Wow. Wow. Seriously, you guys. THANK YOU. So many follows, it's overwhelming. I think your comments, reviews and encouragements have really made me try to make this story something special. So thank you for that. I think it's officially taken over my life! (lol)

I know there are a lot of questions that I'm raising with each chapter, but I promise that we'll eventually see Sam's perspective and those questions _will_ be answered. Promise.

* * *

-4-

KitKats are Andy's new best friend. For a while they'd seemed to ease the sting, now they are just a habit; something to pass the time, to chew on to relieve stress. She groans inwardly at how they are quickly making her uniform pants feel that much tighter.

It had been an especially KitKat-worthy day. Chris, in his infinitesimal wisdom, had let her know that he'd run into Sam and Marlo at Baton Rouge.

"It looked like they were celebrating something," he'd said.

_Well, fuck him_, she thought to herself and then promptly made a mental note to hit up the Becker's on Parliament after shift in search of her next chocolate fix.

The buzzer above the door sounds as she enters the convenience store, alerting the cashier. She gives a shallow smile and heads to the candy bar aisle. While deciding between the giant or regular size the buzzer sounds a second time.

"A pack of Winston Lights," a familiar voice asks the cashier. Her heart feels as though its flipped in her chest.

_Shit. _It had been a little over six months ago that that same voice had easily seduced her into nakedness during her UC op with a muted whisper in her ear. Now, all it seems they are doing is everything in their respective powers to avoid each other.

She toes the linoleum floor._ Giant sized it is. _

"Hey Sam," she says, attempting to be cordial as she places her KitKat on the counter. Surprised to see her, he reddens and quickly tucks the cigarettes into his pocket.

"Hey," he mutters. "How's it going?"

She shrugs and throws a $5 bill onto the counter. "Great." Her voice sounds a little too high pitched for her liking. "You smoke now?" She asks attempting to change the subject.

He shakes his head. "Not really. I mean…you know." He fans out his hands and gives the cashier an odd look.

"How's that case you're working on?"

His eyes shift from her to his feet and he says, "it's moving slower than I'd hoped."

"Oh," she replies. "That's too bad."

"I'm hoping that'll change soon though," he adds quickly.

Andy nods absently and pockets her change. She moves for the door, tucking the KitKat into her jacket pocket. "I'll see you, I guess," she says in an attempt to sound disinterested and detached.

As the buzzer above the door sounds, his voice calls out: "Andy, wait—" He waves for her to stop. "I was wondering if we could—" Before he can finish his sentence, the glass door behind her shatters into a million pieces. Her hands instinctively fly up to cover her ears. A sharp pop-pop-pop causes the windows to burst like a fireworks display on Canada Day around her; she can feel shards of glass hitting her hair and shoulders. She throws herself to the ground, recognizing the deafening sound of gunfire.

A protective weight falls on top of her as screeching tires are heard in the distance. The convenience store is suddenly eerily quiet. Only the sound of broken pop bottles sizzling with carbonation, fill the air. Sam's rough hand grabs at her arm and flips her over. "Are you okay?" He's panicked, his eyes run the length of her body in search of injury.

She sits up easily. "Yes, yes. I'm fine." Andy pushes herself to her feet, glass falling off of her. "What the hell was that?"

"Call 9-1-1," Sam barks at the cashier who's head pokes up from behind the counter where he'd hid. Sam jumps through the remains of the front door with Andy charging after him.

"Andy, go back inside!" He yells at her, the bottoms of his boots crunching against the shards of glass on the sidewalk.

"Look!" She calls, pointing. A dark heap of a person lays curled at the edge of the parking lot. They both run toward the body. Sam reaches it first and turns the person on his back. It's a man, probably around 20 or 25, she guesses. His face is purple and swollen from bruises, blood drips from his lips. Sam grabs at the man's jacket searching for bullet wounds and comes up empty.

"Is he shot?" Andy asks breathless, dropping to the ground on her knees, ready to assist if needed.

"No, I think he's just unconscious. His pulse seems steady."

"What the hell was that?" She asks as though he knows the answer. Sam gently tilts the man's head upwards to open his airway and uses his hands to support his neck.

"Did Jeinks call 9-1-1?" Sam asks, his voice rushed and demanding.

"Who?" Andy asks. "The guy at the counter? Yeah, I think so. He was on the phone when I took off after you."

Sam looks down at the man in front of him. She knows him well enough to know that he's assessing the situation, trying to figure out the next course of action. She stares, waiting for direction.

"You should get behind my truck," He says at last. "They might come back."

She shakes her head, stubborn. Sam's jaw clenches and he exhales a steady breath. "Fine," he says through gritted teeth. "Check his I.D."

Together they gently tilts the body and Andy pulls a wallet from the back pocket. "Martino Rubino," she says holding up the driver's licence.

Sam's eyes widen. The name is familiar to him.

"One of the names?" She asks. Sam nods. He was on the list. She can hear the ambulance approaching, its sirens filling the otherwise quieted night.

"Andy, listen to me," Sam says with urgency. "Do not tell anyone about the connection. Do you understand? Tell no one!"

She nods, her eyes questioning him, looking for more answers.

"It's important. You can't. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Yes. Of course," she says quickly. She's about to ask him why, but an ambulance pulls in behind her and she's silenced as the EMTs push them to the side.

…

After she finishes picking the glass from her hair, she heads to the detective alcove to wait for Oliver to take her statement. As she grabs a seat at one of the desks, she notices what a mess the area is.

"I found this on top of the mail cart. Figured I'd bring it over to you," Traci says, dropping a package on the desk in front of her.

The manila envelope has her name scrawled across it in block letters. There's no address for her or for the sender. Curious, she rips the packaging and turns it upside down so that its contents fall on to the desk. A pack of Winston Lights tumbles out.

Traci raises her eyebrows. "Since when do you smoke?"

"I don't," she says, recognizing the brand. "They're Sam's."

"Sam's? Sam doesn't smoke."

Andy is only half listening as she turns the pack of cigarettes over her in her hand. The package is different from the one that Sam purchased earlier; this one is opened. She flips the top up and scrawled in the same handwriting as what is on the envelope are numbers.

"1147. 23:25"

"What's that's all about?" Traci asks, curious.

Andy looks up at the clock on the wall. 11:20.

"Trace, can you tell Oliver that I'll be back in a few minutes?" She stands up and starts toward the elevator. "I've just got to check something out upstairs."

Before Traci can answer, Andy is down the hall, pressing the buttons that call the elevator. Her heart is racing and she mentally tells herself to get it together. She hopes that she's right about what the message says. She thinks she knows who awaits her on the 11th floor, the handwriting familiar to her. She recognizes it from all the reports she had to write as a rookie.

The doors open and she bounds into the car, pressing the button for the 11th floor where the detectives keep their cold cases. She taps her foot impatiently as each floor slips by. Officers eye her curiously as they get on and get off at the various floors. When the doors open at the 11th, she quickly exits and follows the signs to 1147.

When she gets to the right room, she opens the heavy, fire-retardant door. The light is on inside and she cautiously walks into the room where she sees the person she'd been expecting, leaning against a stack of boxes.

"Sam. What's going on? What's with the subterfuge?" She holds up the package of cigarettes and raises her eyebrows. "You could've just told me to meet you here."

At first he says nothing. He's watching her. His eyes study her and the examination makes Andy nervous. Then, he pushes off from the boxes and walks toward her and says, "I don't smoke. Never have."

She cocks her head, confused. "Then why—?"

"Do you know what's in this room?" He asks, ignoring her question.

"Cold cases?"

"Yeah. _Drug_ cold cases."

She shakes her head, unsure of where she fits in all this.

"Did you know that Jerry had a very specific filing system?"

"No. I didn't."

Absently, he continues, turning away from Andy. "No one except Jerry could really figure it out. He would only have the patience to train a few people."

"Did he train you?"

"Yah," he says, nodding his head. "And Traci. Not too many others. Actually hardly anyone. It's been a pain in the ass whenever someone needs paperwork."

Andy stays silent, watching him as he paces the room.

"We just haven't had the time to change it yet." He puffs out his cheeks and releases a mouthful of air and turns toward her. "I'm in the middle of something, Andy."

"Martino Rubino?"

He shakes his head. "He's part of it. But it's bigger. Bigger than those names that you gave me."

"I don't understand." She moves toward him, curiosity pulling at her.

"Andy." Sam puts his hands on her arms, keeping her at a distance. "I'm— we're— we're all standing on a house of cards." His breathing is shallow, she can see the frustration written across his face. "And it's all going to come crashing down around us. Both of us, if I'm not careful."

"What are you talking about? Is this about the connections that I found?"

His mouth opens and closes as he though he's trying to decide what to say. "I think she's going to find out," he whispers at last.

"What? Who?" Andy is stunned. It's as though Sam is speaking riddles. "Who are you—?" Before she can finish, his hands pull her closer. Before she can ask him to clarify, his mouth robs her of her words.

His lips are warm and soft, just as she'd remembered. Something in her head screams at her to stop, to push him away. After everything she should push him away.

But she doesn't, she can't.

Instead she relents, encouraging the kisses to morph into something white-hot that takes her breath away. His hands move quickly into her hair, each kiss becoming indistinguishable from its predecessor; her own hand finds its way under his t-shirt and against his cool skin. The other clutches at the cigarette pack as though it's an anchor, keeping her in reality.

"Sam!" She gasps as his lips move toward her ear lobe. The rational part of her brain is taking over again. "Sam," she tries again, his lips promptly silencing her.

"Enough," he whispers between kisses. His lips press against the corner of her mouth. "Enough." His mouth comes full on her own.

_Enough._ It's such a simple word, she thinks; one that is loaded with subtext. Subtext that she isn't in the mood to think about. She just wants to feel him again, to have him near. To forget. To forgive.

Her hands begin to inch up his back, she's losing herself in the moment when he suddenly pulls away.

"Not here," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "We can't."

She's confused and breathless, her fingers cling to his t-shirt. "Why?"

He runs the tips of his fingers along her cheek, brushing a loose strand of hair away. "A week, Andy. Just give me a week. I promise. I'll explain everything. "

She nods, slowly. He pulls her against him, his chin rests atop her head which is tucked against his chest. She's not entirely sure why she's agreeing to his request, she hates not having all the answers. But the pounding of his heart, calm and steady against her ear, reassures her. Like it used to.

"I'd better go," he says at last.

"Okay."

He gives one last small smile and leaves, closing the door behind him. Andy counts to twenty before leaving herself and takes the stairs back down as she doesn't want to run the risk of sharing an elevator with Sam and raising suspicion. About what, she's not entirely sure.

When she opens the door to the stairwell, she runs right into Marlo Cruz. The pack of cigarettes she'd been clutching falls to the floor.

"Oh! Sorry!" Andy exclaims, quickly picking up the pack. She tries to control the sudden guilty, nervous thump in her chest.

Marlo's voice is steady, unfazed; she wrings her hands at her stomach. "McNally! What brings you to the 11th floor?"

"Oh… just," she pauses, gathering her thoughts. "Traci wanted me to check something out. For a case she's working on."

Marlo nods. "Didn't realize you smoked," she says pointing to the now crumpled pack of cigarettes clutched tightly in Andy's hand.

She looks down at the pack. "Oh. Right." Andy shrugs. "Stress," she lies. Marlo's eyes narrow, disbelieving. "Anyway, gotta go," she adds, quickly. "Traci's probably wondering where I've been." With a quick wave, Andy darts down the stairs, leaving Marlo behind on the landing.

_...To be continued..._

_Please leave a review if you can! _


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** This is the last of Andy's perspective. Starting in chapter 6, you will start to get some answers through Sam's perspective.

* * *

-5-

Andy fingers a button on her blouse, her stomach lurches as her nerves threaten to swallow her whole. She wipes her damp palms across her pencil skirt. There's something about what Sam said the previous night that is eating at her and she can't shake the feeling that there's something wrong.

She takes a seat at Sam's empty desk in the detective wing and logs in to the computer. A series of options opens itself to her on screen and she considers each of them. Typically, as a patrol officer she's accustomed to using the background checks, traffic violations and booking options. But there are a few that present themselves to her, including Confidential Informant.

She clicks on the option and is asked to enter in a C.I. number. She doesn't have one to enter and so she clicks on the reverse look up option. A box appears on screen and prompts for a password. She chews at the corner of her lip and considers her options. She doesn't have the appropriate clearance to access the reverse lookup and wonders who she could ask.

"You're looking fancy," Traci says, passing by. "Big date?"

"Well, if you consider a date at court as a big date?" Andy offers a smile that doesn't reach her eyes and Traci notices.

"What's going on? You're not nervous about going to court are you?" She pulls a chair next to her friend and takes a seat. "You've testified before, haven't you?"

"Oh yah. Sure." Andy looks back at the computer screen and points at the prompt box. "Trace? Do you have clearance to reverse look up C.I.s?"

"Informants?" She repeats, eyes wide. "No. Not yet. I'm still in training. You'd have to get a password from someone like Luke or Sam." Traci nudges her friend's knee. "Or if you're brave enough, Frank."

She shakes her head. "Can't do that. I'm working on a hunch and they'd ask too many questions that I don't have the answers to yet."

Traci shrugs her shoulders. "Then I guess you're going to have to make friends with someone in drug squad or homicide."

Drug squad.

Andy's eyes fly open. "Traci! You're amazing!" She turns away from her friend and back to the screen.

Traci narrows her eyes in confusion. "You're welcome?"

"Sorry!" Andy waves absently. "Thank you! I think I just figured it out." She pulls out her cell phone and scrolls through her contacts, selecting one.

Traci laughs, good humoured, at her friend's sudden disinterest in her. "Well, it's been fun chatting with you, Andy." She stands and starts to walk away. "Good luck with whatever you're working on."

"Nick?" Andy says into her phone when her former undercover partner picks up.

"What's up?" He says.

Her voice drops to a whisper. "If I ask you something, will you do it without asking any questions?"

"You're not asking me to murder someone are you? Because you know that pact was just a—"

"No, no!" She interrupts. "I need Blackstone's password to check on a C.I. Any ideas what it could be?"

There's silence on the other end and Andy looks at her phone, confused, thinking that maybe the call dropped. "Nick?"

"Yah, I'm here. What are you up to, Andy?" She can tell by his voice that he doesn't approve.

"Listen, I can't explain. Not right now. Do you or do you not know what it could be?"

He sighs. She knows he's about to relent. "I dunno."

"Nick? Please," she begs. "It's important. I swear. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't. You know that I wouldn't."

"Why don't you just use Swarek's? I'm sure you could probably guess it." There's a bitterness to his voice that Andy chooses to ignore.

"Sam always does these complicated number-letter combinations. Not even CSIS could crack it. C'mon, if you know what Blackstone's could be, just tell me."

She hears him click his tongue, frustrated. "Fine," he says at last. "Every time I had to meet with him, he was always smoking these stupid cigarettes. He's probably the type of guy that would use that as his password."

"What?" She can't recall a single time that she ever saw Blackstone smoke in front of her. Sure, he had the raspy voice of someone who'd probably smoked a pack a day, but she'd never made the connection before.

"Yeah. He thought it was impolite to smoke in front of the ladies," Nick laughs. "I dunno. It sounded stupid to me at the time."

"Do you remember the brand?" She asks.

"Something lights…" He pauses, trying to recall the name. "Winston Lights. That's it."

Andy is stunned. It seems far too convenient and coincidental. "You're sure?"

"Yeah, absolutely. He was always saying that he had to go back to Toronto to buy them because they didn't sell them in Fort Erie."

Andy is flabbergasted. She quickly thanks Nick and hangs up. Without thinking it over, she enters "winston" as the password. As the computer decides whether it will accept it, she wonders whether she should be surprised that it was so easy to crack Blackstone's password. Before she can give it a second thought, the page opens up, allowing her to search.

Decidedly, she types:

_Marlo Cruz._

The computer processes the request.

_Name not found. Refine search._

Andy purses her lips and types in just the last name, _Cruz. Two names appear before her:_

_Cayetano Cruz_

_Gaspar Cruz (Tornes)_

She clicks on the first name and is taken to his bio. There it lists his involvement in a drug squad case out of Harbourfront. Nothing appears out of the normal, but there's something familiar about his photo, so Andy quickly jots down his name before closing the screen and clicking on the second. The bio is similar to the first, but instead shows a connection to a murder investigation out of Markham. It's not exactly what she's looking for and she dismisses Caspar Cruz.

She renews her search. This time, on a whim, she types in _Sam Swarek_.

To her surprise his name appears. She looks over her shoulder to make sure no one is near and clicks on his name.

_Restricted Access._

The lettering is red and imposing, flashing against the logo for 15 Division. She can feel her heartbeat thundering in her chest. "Why is Sam a confidential informant?" She whispers aloud to herself.

"Hey McNally?" Frank Best's voice echoes from the bullpen, startling her. Quickly, she closes the screen and logs out.

"Ye-yeah?" She replies, her guilt written across her face.

"Your shuttle to the courthouse is here." She nods, willing her guilty and surely obvious reaction away. She gathers her belongings, and slips the paper with Cayetano Cruz's name and contact information into her pocket. Her mind spins. Is there a relation between Marlo Cruz and Cayetano Cruz? Why is Sam in the database? And why was he listed as restricted?

…

As witnesses, police officers are required to sit in the hallway outside of the courtroom to wait for the court bailiff to call them inside. She doesn't mind the wait, it allows her time to gather her thoughts and figure out whether she will go to Sam with what she's discovered. She decides to take a chance and tempts fate and calls Cayetano's number.

"Hello?" A voice replies after the first ring.

"Hi—Hi," she stutters. Andy thinks that maybe she should've thought out what she was going to say first. "Is this Cayetano Cruz?"

"Yah." He replies slowly, cautious.

"Super!" Andy says, trying to sound flip and non-threatening. "I'm looking for an old friend of mine from high school. Marlo? Marlo Cruz? Do you know her? Do you know where I can find her?"

There's a pause. It's long and Andy wonders whether he's hung up on her. "Hello? Are you there?"

"Yah," Cayetano says.

"So do you know her?" There's a second pause and then a click; Andy knows instantly that he's hung up on her. "Damn," she mutters to herself and wonders what her next move is. She's about to tuck her phone into her bag, when it rings.

"McNally," she answers mechanically, not thinking twice about her greeting. There's a pause on the other end and a click. Eyes wide, she looks at the screen. _Blocked._

"Shit." A witness nearby gives her a look and she shakes her head, ignoring him. Two thoughts run through her head. The first is that there's almost definitely a connection between Marlo Cruz and Cayetano Cruz and the second is that she might be on the chopping block if Frank catches wind of what she's just done.

"Officer McNally?" The court bailiff calls from the doorway of the courtroom. "You've been called to the stand."

She nods and tucks her cellphone into her bag. She'll have to figure out her next step later.

…

Andy looks at her reflection in the mirror. She is a ghostly white, her face nearly matching the pallor of her crisp blouse. She exhales a shaky breath, willing her heart to calm. She pushes back the sleeves of her shirt, and twists the tap on the sink. Cool water pools over her hands and down the drain. She cups her hands and bends over the sink, splashing water against her hot face.

She hates being cross examined by the defence. Half the time they're vultures, working to discredit her. While it was the infamous Ray Nixon case that she was testifying for— considered a slam dunk for the Crown— the defence had pulled out a few skeletons from her past as a cop in an attempt to show her lack of professionalism on the job. It's not the first time she's had her suspension for conduct unbecoming an officer pulled out in court. Thankfully the Crown attorney had objected when possible, but the defence had succeeded in rattling her nerves.

She reaches toward the paper towel dispenser and pulls at the rough brown paper. It catches at the teeth of the dispenser and she leans over to pull harder, freeing the paper with a sharp tug. She brings the paper to her face, rubbing away the light dusting of makeup she'd put on that morning. She catches a movement from the corner of her eye and looks up and at the mirror. In addition to her own, the face of Marlo Cruz greets her in return. She gasps, surprised and turns, the balled up brown paper falling into the sink.

"Marlo! What are you doing here?" She says, her hand at her heart, willing the pace to subside.

Marlo doesn't answer. Instead her thin hands move quick and wrap around Andy's throat. She's startled, not expecting the attack. Andy attempts to wrap her leg around Marlo's to get the upper hand, it's a defensive move that Sam had once taught her, but her pencil skirt hinders the movement. Marlo's legs instead curl around her own and send Andy crashing to the floor.

The back of Andy's head hits the tile and she feels a sharp pain reverberate through her skull. She squirms under Marlo's grip, her breath barely escaping as greater pressure is placed against her throat. Andy tries to scream, but it comes out garbled and muted.

Marlo gives a deep chuckle and shushes her, one hand moving to cover her mouth. Andy begins to see stars before her eyes, the room looks as though it's spinning. Her eyes widen as she feels Marlo lift her head up, her knee digging into Andy's stomach. She can taste blood in her mouth and hazily wonders if it will be her last thought.

In the seconds before she blacks out, a swift shadow of movement catches her eye. Unsure of whether it's a vision from the other side, she swears she sees Sam Swarek's familiar face behind Marlo, grabbing at her shoulders and lifting her from Andy.

_...To be continued..._

_Please leave a review if you can!_


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: This chapter should answer a few questions for you! The locations all exist in Fort Erie (address number is made up). For those that don't know, Fort Erie is the last city before the border with Buffalo at the Peace Bridge.

Again, thank you so, so much for the lovely reviews and the follows. You guys make my day, seriously!

* * *

-6-

It never occurred to Sam before that the only people who shop at grocery stores on a Thursday night are single people. He's spent the last hour zig zagging through the aisles of a Sobey's in Fort Erie avoiding eye contact with women who are continuously trying to catch his eye. It's ridiculous and it annoys him. He's holding a box of oatmeal in an attempt to appear like he actually has a purpose in purchasing something at the store and he wonders how much longer he'll have to continue the charade. He already suspects that store security is monitoring him.

He's about to consider abandoning the mission altogether when he spots her staring at a selection of organic peanut butter. He draws in a deep breath and heads toward her.

"Organic is good, but I've always been a Kraft kind of guy," he says, feigning interest in the products next to her.

Andy turns, stunned. Her mouth is agape and he struggles to keep his smile under control. "Act natural," he advises under his breath. "Just in case."

She nods and returns her attention to the selection of peanut butter. "What are you doing here?" she whispers.

"Looking for you." It's as honest an answer that he can provide. He'd spent countless hours trying to locate her, paying off more informants than he'd care to mention for info on her whereabouts. The coup came when he got a call from a snitch in Crescent Bay telling him that there was a man and a woman he'd never seen before hanging around a drug runner named Simon Dent.

Once he knew that, he zeroed in on the drug runners in the area, fishing out information when it became available through the police wires. It seemed that Mather Park was the hub of activity and he focused his attention on that area, eventually settling on Andy's routine: grocery shopping every Thursday night. Alone.

"Why?"

"I promised you I wouldn't leave you alone." Out of the corner of his eye, he can see that she's blushing. She's tucking her chin into her neck, her tell when she's embarrassed. "I told you I wanted to make this work."

She picks up a jar of peanut butter and pretends to examine the label. "I'm undercover, Sam."

"As if that's ever stopped us."

She smiles and turns the jar over in her hands. "Nick's going across the border tomorrow night. Come by." Andy returns the jar to the shelf. "83 Malkin Ave. Apartment B" She turns to face him. "And for the record, I like Kraft better too."

…

When he kisses her for the first time, he hesitates. He wants her to know that he's serious about this, about _them_. She reassures him by saying, "there's no going back." And it's all he can do to not laugh at the familiar turn of phrase.

He's hungry for her and he senses that she feels the same. With the doors locked and the cameras off, they're quick to find the only bedroom in the apartment. Their clothes become a tangled mess on the floor and he digs his knees into the bed, willing himself steady.

…

Before dawn they plan for their next meet up as Sam's searching for his clothes under the bed. She tells him that Dent usually gets a shipment in on Fridays. It's when the border crossing is busiest and the Border Patrol is most occupied on the bridge. Dent will likely have Nick pulling freight on those nights.

"We need a signal, something that can tell me from the street that it's safe," Sam suggests. He hasn't forgotten the mistakes they'd made with Brennan. "And something that I can also use to let you know I'm in town."

Andy goes to the kitchen and digs into the recycle bin. "How about this?" She says, holding up an empty jar of peanut butter.

He laughs and pulls her into a kiss. He can feel the warmth of the sun rising over the water and groans as he pulls away. "I have to go. Before it gets light and people start to notice."

She nods and intertwines her fingers into his. "I'll miss you."

Sam tucks a strand of loose hair behind Andy's ear and says, "not as much as I'll miss you."

"A week."

"A week," he promises.

…

They meet again and again. He stoically tries to control his elation when she tells him that Dent is growing to trust Collins. It means that he can visit more frequently. He worries momentarily one Tuesday night that their duplicity is getting sloppy when he nearly runs into Collins leaving the apartment. Thankfully he doesn't recognize him as he'd tucked his head further into his hood, but he's still anxious. She's quick to kiss away his fears and runs her long fingers through his hair, erasing any concerns he might have had.

It's a foggy April morning when everything unravels before him. He's leaving the apartment a little after sunrise and is about to put the hood on his sweater up when a raspy voice calls his name, stopping him in his tracks.

"Sam Swarek. I should've figured."

He feels his heart sink. "And you are?"

"Jacob Blackstone. Drug squad," he holds his hand out. Sam refuses the gesture and instead leans against the wall next to Blackstone.

"Guess it was only a matter of time," he says, his voice calm.

Blackstone chuckles and pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. "Want one?" Sam shakes his head. Blackstone takes one out and tucks it between his lips and says, "the peanut butter jar was a good idea. But I started to wonder why McNally never wanted to join Collins on his missions. She was so gung ho in the beginning."

Sam nods slowly. He's unsure where all this is going and watches as Blackstone flicks the head of his lighter and lights the cigarette. "You know she could be suspended for this? She's still technically a rookie. No— no, wait!" He points at Sam with the extinguished lighter. "She'd probably be fired. This is her second time doing this, isn't it?"

Sam bites his tongue and stays silent.

"You— you'd be suspended. Union regulations and all that. But she— she'd probably be fired."

He clenches his jaw and says at last, "What do you want from me, Blackstone?"

Blackstone flicks the ash from the tip of his cigarette. "Well for starters, all this stuff needs to stop before you fuck up my operation."

Sam doesn't want to agree, but he knows they've been careless lately and understands the inherent risks that they've been taking. "Fine."

"I mean it, Swarek. No more of this shit. You can have her back when it's done. You understand?"

"I said _fine_."

"There's another thing. I like McNally, she's a good kid and I want to give her a break. But I'm going to need your help with something in exchange."

Sam narrows his eyes. "Okay…"

"The feds have been breathing down our necks over some drugs and weapons that have been going missing through ETF's evidence lockup," Blackstone says, taking a drag on his cigarette. "We think we've narrowed down the leak."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"They're initiating a transfer to your division. We want you on her tail, find out if she's the leak and if she is, help us put a cap on it." He takes a long drag on the cigarette and drops the butt on the ground, stomping it with his foot. "Swarek, you're a chameleon. Everyone says so. We'll place you as detective at 15 so you'll have the clearance, give you a C.I. number, the works. I'll even sort it all out with Best."

The plan sounds interesting, but there's something that is nagging at Sam. "How do you suppose I'm going to smoke her out?"

"You're going to date her."

Sam scoffs. "You're fucking with me, Blackstone. I'm not going to date anyone so you can find some missing drugs."

"Yes. Yes, you will." He pulls a second cigarette from the box. "Because if you don't, I'll fry your girlfriend. She'll lose her job over this. You know I will, Swarek. So don't try me."

Sam closes his eyes, measuring the anger that is bubbling up inside of him. He tucks his hands into his sweater's pockets; he's afraid that any second he's going to punch this man. "So you're blackmailing me?"

Blackstone shrugs and rubs his beard. "Blackmailing is such a harsh word," he lights the second cigarette. "Let's say we're making a deal. A deal that will save your girlfriend's ass."

With gritted teeth, Sam nods, juts forth his hand and seals the deal.

_... To be continued..._

_Please leave a review if you can!_


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: A few people were confused with chapter 6, so I wanted to clarify that yes, we've now gone back in time. So chapter 6 falls in line with chapter 1 and chapter 7 with chapters 2 & 3. I should also note that the Maras are actually a Toronto based gang, but I've shortened their name because... well, because I'm chicken. LOL

Thank you again and again (cause I can not say it enough) for the reviews and the follows. I very, very much appreciate it. xo

* * *

-7-

Sam can barely keep it together. He was categorically told not to tell Andy about his deal and the fact that he'd left her not knowing eats at him. He considers sending her a message, finding her again at the Sobey's, something— but he has the nagging impression that he's being watched. He can't shake the feeling and it haunts him, preventing him from doing what he knows he should.

As a result, his temper is constantly flaring up and it's all he can do to sustain a casual relationship with the new officer at 15 Division, Marlo Cruz. He's grateful when she accepts his caveat of an emotional distance. He suspects she's got just as many secrets to keep as he does.

When he sees Andy in the truck bay for the first time in three months, he feels as though he's been kicked in the stomach. He's breathless and can barely find two coherent words to string together. She's as beautiful as he remembers and he thinks that he was a fool to have accepted Blackstone's offer. He can tell that she's excited to see him; her smile radiates from ear to ear. It tears at him and he can barely meet her eyes.

Back at 15, he sees his two worlds crash into each other: the fake one he's built with Marlo and the real one that he wants to build with Andy. He's gutted when Andy catches him kissing Marlo and he decidedly hates Blackstone for what he's done to the both of them.

…

Andy isn't at work for a week due to her debriefing and it makes it a little easier to keep up the charade with Marlo. He thinks that she's buying into their relationship and he hopes that Blackstone and the RCMP are right about her. He works almost every weekend and stays late at work in an attempt to solve the case and end the so-called relationship. One less weekend at home, is one less weekend he has to lie about in order to avoid Marlo's company.

When Andy eventually does return, he finds himself falling into old patterns. She's probably the best partner he's ever had and he loves the fluidity. She reminds him of what he misses the most and he's so damn close to just confessing the whole stupid deal to her in the parking lot of the Penny. Something stops him, however; he fiercely wants to protect this woman and knows that he can't if all is revealed.

Days later, he's in the locker room when he overhears Collins telling Diaz that he's thinking about asking Andy out. Sam practically puts his fist through the wall and marches straight to Frank to get himself pulled off the case. Everything is spinning out of control and if he loses Andy because of it, he'd never forgive himself.

Frank is startled, but holds his ground. Sam agreed to the deal and the division agreed to the transfer; they need to finish the case once and for all. He says that he understands Sam's frustrations, realizes the aggravation it must cause, but the answer is no. Sam practically sees red he's so furious and he tells his friend as much. But Frank will not bend, regardless of the expletives Sam throws at him. Evidence is starting to go missing from their own lock up and at this point only Sam can determine the presumed source. He puts a stop to the conversation and demands that Sam get out of his office.

"You've fucked me over, Frank," he yells as he exits the office, privately hoping the whole of 15 Division hears him. "I'm telling you, you need to end this!"

He skips parade that morning, and re-evaluates how he's been investigating Marlo. He needs to change his approach in order to close the case sooner. He figures that the only way he can do that is to distract her and get her to trust him even more so.

Sam gets his opportunity when Frank is off sick and Andy sleeps in. He's assigned to sergeant duties and purposefully barks at Andy when she arrives late. He knows that lately Marlo's been questioning their relationship and has suggested that he still has feelings for Andy; he hopes this will assure her he's devoted to her. He hadn't realized he'd been so transparent.

He orders Andy to bookings and chastises her in front of everyone. It pains him to do so, but he thinks that he sells it when he sees Marlo give Andy a satisfied look.

When the floor clears out and enough time has passed, he scribbles down the names he's been circling for over a month. He's been to Marlo's house and knows that its clean but if she's been stealing evidence it has to be kept _somewhere_. The list he gives Andy has the names of known Maras members and he throws in Cruz as a Hail Mary. He's already searched the database for her name, but he wonders if a fresh set of eyes might pick up something new.

His idea pays off and Andy shows him connections through Montreal, along the St. Lawrence and through an Atlantic shipping company with associations in South America. The money stolen from the evidence lockup is probably being used to fund the importation of the drugs or weapons. He's stunned that in just a few hours she's managed to piece things together and he thinks that maybe he should've put her on the case sooner. She is always more detail oriented than he ever was.

Sam reaches for the phone to call his snitch in the Maras; he thinks he has a plan.

"Martino? It's Swarek. I need your help."

_...To be continued..._

_Please leave a review if you can! _


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: This chapter matches with chapter 4. And yes, I know Marlo was in Chapter 4, in spite of what Sam says here. Marlo wasn't supposed to be at work and yet she is... I'll let you draw your own conclusions as to why ; ) The show mentioned that Sam had changed Jerry's filing system, so I figured that maybe the system was strange and needed to be changed anyway. So this is my version of a whacky organizational system.

There will be 10 chapters to this story, so we're coming to the end soon! It was originally only supposed to be about 3 chapters! LOL I will certainly be sad to let it go. You've all been so encouraging and wonderful. Thank you!

* * *

-8-

Blackstone had given him explicit instructions on how to contact him. "Order a pack of Winston Lights," he'd said. "Over at the Becker's on Parliament. Jeinks is my guy. He knows how to reach me." Sam thinks it's straight out of a film noir and is annoyed that he can't just call him on a secure line. At the time he had been in no mood to argue with Blackstone and now that he actually needs to get in contact with him, it's looking like the only option available. After work, he drives to the convenience store and purchases the pack of cigarettes.

He's surprised when Andy greets him a few seconds later and he covers up his purchase with a sheepish shrug. He supposes she'll assume he's stressed and has picked up the habit, he certainly _feels_ stressed. He wants her back, _needs_ her back and he's again tempted to tell her as much.

When a hail of bullets hits the front of the store, he immediately throws himself on Andy. His heart is practically in his throat when he flips her over to make sure she's okay. Sam breathes a prayer of thanks when she leaps to her feet and follows him out to the parking lot. He knows it's pointless to tell her to hide, but he does so anyway.

Martino Rubino is so beaten that Sam doesn't even recognize him. It's then that he understands that the case is more dangerous than he ever realized. He's scared that he may have inadvertently involved Andy in something bigger than either of them.

…

When he returns to the station, he blows Epstein off. He'll give his statement when he's good and ready to. At the moment he needs to find the leak. Somehow, someone— Marlo perhaps?— knew he'd been in contact with Rubino. The leak has to be in his office.

Sam tears through his desk looking for the bug. He's glad Marlo has the night off, as he's certain she'd probably be suspicious at the mess, Traci certainly is. He tells her he's lost something and she leaves him to his machinations. Half of the files from his desk are on the floor when he finds what he's looking for in a bugged pen tucked under his keyboard. He resists the urge to smash the piece of tech beneath his feet, figuring he can use it to his advantage later. He can't help but wonder what secrets were shared in its company.

Ignoring the mess that surrounds him, he logs into his computer. He needs to find out what else Marlo has been up to and uses his detective clearance to check her search history.

_Emotional distance, my ass,_ he thinks to himself as the database loads. With a few clicks he enters her name and checks her computer history.

Most are familiar, recent cases that the whole division has been working on, but there are a few searches in the last few weeks that are unfamiliar to him.

_Gerfried Dominguez_

_Anabelle Borrell_

_Ottokar Vivet_

_Arthur Brossa_

_Thomas Alis_

He quickly clicks through the names and finds that they are all cold cases from drug squad. Never solved, all from the Jane and Woolner area and sitting in the file room on the 11th floor. He wonders what the files hold and quickly jots down the names.

When he throws the pencil onto his desk he sees the unopened package of Winston Lights he'd bought earlier and realizes that he needs to warn Andy without anyone else finding out. He glares at the bugged pen now propped up in a coffee cup.

_Without Marlo finding out. _

He deftly rips off the wrapper from the cigarettes and leaves a message on the inside of the carton. He hopes Andy'll be able to decipher it as he seals it into a manila envelope and tosses it on top of the mail cart by the breakroom. Sam knows that she's likely to grab a KitKat before she gives her statement to Oliver and hopes she'll see it sitting there.

…

The 11th floor is empty and he's quick to find the room he's looking for. When Jerry was alive he knew his friend would spend hours organizing and reorganizing the files, trying to make connections in order to solve the cases. He always took pleasure when a cold case was solved.

Sam opens the door and looks around, there's something off about the room that he can't place. He's fairly certain that no one has been in there lately as the sign in log on the door is empty. The boxes, though, aren't exactly where he remembers them. He makes a mental note to ask Traci if she's been rearranging them.

He begins his search, heading for the boxes marked by location first. Flipping through the case files he pulls out Ottokar Vivet's file.

_Suspicion of weapons trafficking. _

_Weapons seized 2001, lock up 42.B.6_

_Case: Unsolved_

_Ottokar Vivet: Missing_

Sam jots down the locker number for the weapons and replaces the file. He moves on to Thomas Alis, another suspect from the Junction area.

_Suspicion of importation of heroin_

_Evidence seized from 760 Jane St., lock up 76.F.7_

_Case: Unsolved_

_Thomas Alis: Presumed to be located in Montreal. Files transferred to Service de police de la Ville de Montréal._

Again, he takes down the locker information and replaces the file. Methodically he goes through his list.

_Dominguez, Borrell and Brossa._ Heroin, Weapons and Weapons. He sees the common denominator among the cases and takes note of each's locker number. He replaces the lid to the box and puts it back in its spot. He leans against the boxes and tries to sort out what it all means. He has a nagging suspicion that if he were to look in the lockers he'd find them empty of evidence. He pulls out his phone and calls Frank.

"Frank, it's Sam," he says when Frank picks up. "I need you to check these locker numbers. You'll need to call lock up to see if the evidence is still there." He rattles off the numbers and names.

"Give me a minute, I'll call you back."

Sam hangs up the phone and waits. He paces the room, trying to figure out what's wrong with the ordering system and realizes suddenly that they aren't oriented by geographical location— Jerry's ridiculous system of organization— they are alphabetical by the region listed on the box. He hadn't noticed it earlier because The Junction was on the west end and he'd went immediately to the left. He looks closer and sees that Miliken and Malvern are incorrectly placed in the south side, Leaside in the East and Richview in the West. Someone must've tried to find the files alphabetically and couldn't make sense of it all. He suspects that whomever that person is— Marlo, in all likelihood— probably figured out the labelling of the boxes which led to the five unsolved cases being tracked on her computer. His phone rings, interrupting his thoughts.

"Frank?"

"I talked to my guy at lock up and had him check. You're right! The evidence is missing. And we're not talking a couple of grams of heroin or one or two guns. 45 guns and $90,000 in heroin are missing. All are cases that are cold."

"Shit."

"You're telling me. They probably figured that we wouldn't be looking at the cold cases— which until now was true. My guy checked to see who'd been most recently accessing those lockers and you're not going to believe this."

Sam thinks that he will. He's got his own ideas.

"Marlo Cruz," Frank says, pronouncing the name with emphasis. "This is the end Sammy. We've got her. They're checking the cameras. It should be a matter of days at best."

Sam breaths a sigh of relief. "Thanks Frank."

"We've just got to keep this on the down low. If Cruz finds out it'll all go to hell. Keep her under wraps and keep McNally's nose out of it. You hear me?"

He chuckles. His friend knows his staff a little too well. "Got it."

"We'll talk soon, Sam."

Sam hangs up the phone and leans against some boxes. He's relieved that it's going to be over soon, but he's got a sinking feeling that Marlo wouldn't have been so sloppy. She'd know that the cameras are always filming, that she'd be caught in the act.

He hears the door to the room open and he smiles. When the door closes behind Andy he studies her, it's a rare opportunity that he gets to be alone with her and it sends a shiver down his spine. Every day he thinks about how much he misses her. The feeling is so encompassing that he wonders how he's gone this long without her.

He needs to keep her safe, but knows she'll want to understand.

He tries to explain himself as best as he can, but knows he's being vague. Thinks that maybe he's the one in the film noir when he evades giving her the answers. Andy wants information, she's always wanted to know more about everything. Curious to a fault.

As she rambles, questioning his vagueness, he wants nothing more than to kiss her. He knows it's probably reckless, but he can't resist. When he does, he takes her by surprise. When she relents he feels as though he's in a dream. It's exactly as he'd remembered and it takes everything in his power to stop it before it goes too far.

He's too close to the answers he needs. He can't screw it up now.

_...To be continued..._

_Please leave a review if you can! _


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry for taking a bit of time before posting this. I haven't been feeling particularly well these past few days and couldn't really focus to edit properly. Hopefully that will change soon as I have chapter 10 waiting in the wings!

361 University is major courthouse in Ontario. All the criminal cases from Toronto are held there. I purposefully chose courtroom 6-1 because it's where all the major, news-popular trials get held. I figured that's where the Ray Nixon trial would be held as it's the largest one in the building. For my American friends, Canadian lawyers wear gowns that are similar to judge's robes but with a white collar shirt collar and a black vest. If you're familiar with the British lawyer-look, it's almost exactly like that, minus the wig.

If you're curious about the scene from "Singin' in the Rain" that I reference, search YouTube for "singin' in the rain the sound barrier"

* * *

-9-

361 University Avenue houses one of the largest, if not _the_ largest, criminal courthouses in Ontario. Its multiple floors and historical courtrooms illustrate the power and influence that the Canadian justice system has. Lawyers robed in black and white shuffle in and out of the revolving doors. Some precariously balance cell phones, coffee and briefcases as they make their way through the reserved private entrance.

Sam hates lawyers. Sure, they serve their purpose and are the reason that the criminals they collar end up in prison for the long haul, but more often than not, the very perps they catch red handed end up back on the streets.

He'd awoken to a clawing feeling that something was wrong. He offers Marlo a ride to work (it's best to keep her close at hand, he figures) and she declines. She never declines. So he decides to drive by her house, parks in a nearby driveway and sees her quickly climb into her car and speed north down her street. If she's heading to work, he thinks, she's a few hours too early and headed in the wrong direction.

Curious, he follows her to the courthouse and watches as she heads inside. When she clears the court security at the entrance, Sam makes his move. He deftly moves through the entrance, flashing his badge to get access to the lawyer entrance and stays a safe distance behind her. She's oblivious to him and he's grateful.

He pretends he's part of a group on a tour when she stops to look at the court docket listed on the guest services table. She's quick to find what she's looking for and heads up the network of escalators. He realizes almost instantly that there's no way he can follow her on the escalators without being seen and there are seven floors of courtrooms; he'd never been able to figure out which she's headed to.

When Marlo is no longer visible, he heads to the guest services table and scans the list of cases. Surprisingly, one stands out: Ray Nixon, Courtroom 6-1. The same man who'd killed Zoe Martinelli and others, collecting trophies from them and storing it in a storage locker. The same man who'd attacked Andy and nearly killed her almost two years ago.

_It can't be_, he thinks to himself. _ It's too coincidental. _

It's worth a shot.

When he arrives to the 6th floor, he spots Marlo from a distance. She's headed into the ladies washroom and doesn't see him. He decides to take an opportunity to check in on the trial and is stopped by courtroom security.

"Sorry sir. Court is in recess," she says. "Come back in 15 minutes." He can see over her shoulder that the courtroom is empty but for two lawyers talking. He nods in understanding and the guard closes the door again.

Disappointed he sits on a nearby bench and thinks that maybe he's followed Marlo for nothing. He pulls out his phone and calls Andy, maybe if he can locate her it will put his mind at ease. Her phone goes immediately to voice mail.

He hangs up without leaving a message and calls the station. After identifying himself, he asks where Officer McNally is scheduled to be that day.

"It's funny, you're the second person to call today about Officer McNally," the receptionist says. "She's at 361. She's testifying at the Ray Nixon tri-"

The receptionist doesn't get a chance to finish her sentence as Sam bolts from his seat and races for the washroom.

…

There's a space between the living and the dead. It's a dreamlike wonderland where a hollow, white light envelopes a person. There is no fear, little confusion and mostly love.

Every so often the wonderland spins on its axis like a roulette wheel and Andy awakens back to the land of the living. There is someone staring at her, it's an unfamiliar face and they mumble something to her. She nods, pretending that she understands. She feels a hand clasp at her own, but she's not sure who it is. There's a faint beeping sound and she wishes for a moment that she could keep her eyes open to figure out what it is.

When she returns to the wonderland she feels warmth. Memories play around her like a 360 degree cinema. Sam is before her, holding a pair of tickets. It's to a Blue Jays game and she laughs because he hates baseball. He knows it's her favourite sport and he takes her anyway. It's their two month anniversary and she can't believe that he remembers. He wears a baseball hat and jokes that it'll mess with his hair. She remembers how she felt that day and her heart gives a little leap. It's the day she realized that she was falling in love with him.

The roulette wheel spins again and she awakens. The beeping sound has returned, but the room seems different. She sees her father, he says something, but like before she's unable to discern what it is. She tries to speak but can't, something is preventing her. She feels his hand push at her hair and she fades back into the wonderland.

It's her first date— first _real_ date— with Sam. She's nervous and changes her outfit four times and calls Traci three times. They're going to see "Singin' in the Rain" at the Revue Cinema and when he arrives at her apartment, he knocks on her door with the handle of an umbrella. She laughs and calls him a dork, but quickly threads her fingers through his and leans into him. After the movie, they walk along Roncesvalles and she doubles over laughing when he imitates Lina.

"Oh Pierre, you shouldn't have come!" He says, his voice purposefully high pitched and grating.

She replies with a rumbling and exuberant, "Quiiiiiet! Roll 'em!" Passersby stare and they laugh, barely able to catch their breaths.

When they arrive back at her apartment, she thinks that it may have been the best first date she's ever been on. He kisses her at her door and when she invites him in, he replies by quoting the film with a wink and a dimpled smile, "Dignity. Always dignity." In that second, Andy knows for certain, it is the best first date she's ever been on.

The wheel tilts and she thinks she's in the dreamland, it feels as thought she is. But there is a faint scent of hand sanitizer and the beeping sound has returned. The world is a hazy and she wonders if this is a memory she's long forgotten or a new one being formed. She feels lips touch her forehead, gentle, lovingly. They feel tearstained and she wills herself to turn and see who they belong to. She's unable to and wonders if her visitor knows that she is frozen, yet cognizant.

"I need you, Andy," she hears. The voice is a soft, yet familiar whisper. "I can't do this without you." His voice cracks, desperate for a response. "I am so, so sorry."

If he says anything further, it's enveloped by blackness. When she's tilted on her axis and awakens again, another stranger stares down at her, clad in blue hospital scrubs. Her words are clear, "I'm Doctor Evans. You hit your head pretty badly. But you'll be okay."

Andy falls asleep almost instantly, but this time there is no more wonderland and her sleep is dreamless. The memories fade like the orange glow of a rising sun.

_...To be continued..._

_Please leave a review if you can!_


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I've been holding on to this for a few days, editing and re-editing, trying to make it perfect. Hopefully you all enjoy it and have enjoyed the story as a whole. Thank you again for the reviews and the follows. They've meant so very much to me and I can't thank you enough.

* * *

-10-

Following the arrest of Officer Marlo Cruz, Frank Best orders the division into therapy sessions and Sam into debrief for a week. Once he's sanctioned to return to work, Sam is eager to put the past few months behind him, refusing to address his involvement in Cruz's capture with any of his colleagues. When offered to have his old position as a training officer back he is quick to accept it, preferring the hum-drum existence of working the streets, uncomfortable uniforms be damned.

Despite almost two weeks having passed since the incident, whispers follow Sam in the halls. He's unsure whether they question his integrity or applaud his dedication to the job, but he's certain he doesn't want to know. What he does know is how he feels about the situation and the sickness deep in his stomach that plagues him every time he secretly visits her in the hospital.

"Hey," Traci greets as she opens her gun locker in the supply room.

"Nash. Hi," Sam replies, pulling at his vest. He's still getting used to wearing his uniform again and he can't quite get it to sit correctly. "How's Peck treating you?"

"Are you going to see her today?" She asks, ignoring his question as she clips the extra ammunition to her belt.

He attaches his radio to his shoulder, unable to meet her gaze. "Yeah. Probably."

Traci raises her eyebrows. "Are you going to actually talk to her this time? She's awake now, you know."

Sam rubs at his jaw, looks at Traci and then looks away. It's as though he's trying to find a way to answer her question, but can't. What she doesn't know is that every day he's tried to inch himself closer to Andy's hospital room, but shame and guilt have kept him at bay. The only time he was able to talk to her was when he was certain she was unconscious.

He turns for the door and his only reply to her is, "Have a good day, Nash."

…

An hour later Sam finds himself leaning against the nurses station at Victoria Mercy. "Hey Jill," he says. "How's everything?"

"Officer Swarek!" She replies, returning a patient folder to a nearby desk. "Nice to see you again. Everything is good." Jill looks over her shoulder and once she's certain the coast is clear she leans toward Sam. "She's doing great," she says, her voice lowered. "Dr. Evans says she could be released tomorrow at the latest."

Sam smiles. "That's great. Thank you. Thanks for telling me."

She nods. "Mr. McNally said that it was okay if I told you how she was doing. I guess he didn't want me to get in trouble." She chuckles nervously. "Did you want to go in and see her?"

He pauses and considers the offer and eventually shakes his head in refusal. "Not today. But maybe you could give this to her?" He hands her a coffee, made the way Andy enjoys it.

Jill smiles. "Sure. Should I tell her who it's from?"

Sam thinks for a second, then shakes his head. "No. That's okay. It'll be a surprise."

…

Andy sits up in bed and yawns, her medication having made her drowsy. An attendant places her lunch before her on a tray and she thanks him.

_Another low calorie, high protein meal_, she thinks to herself as she lifts the warming lid. What she wouldn't give for fries and a burger from Big Smoke. She salivates at the very thought as she digs her fork into the steamed fish on her plate. At least she was able to have a decent coffee that morning; a nurse had brought one in and said that it had been left for her.

"Hey honey," her father greets from the doorway. "I brought you something." He holds up a familiar paper bag. She can see the grease stains starting to form.

"Is that what I think it is?" She asks with a grin.

"Spicy burger with a side of poutine and—" he holds up the drink in his other hands. "A strawberry shake. Only the best for my little girl."

She greedily waves him over and moves her hospital tray to the side. "You're the best," she says as he hands her the food. Andy kisses him on the cheek and hungrily opens the bag and pulls out her meal.

"The doctor says that you can go home tomorrow," Tommy says, taking a seat next to the hospital bed. "And you could be back at work by Friday."

She nods, biting into the burger.

"Traci came by. She says hi. She also needs to interview you this afternoon now that you're fully recovered and everything."

"I'm not sure how much I can tell her. The last thing I remember is going to the washroom at the courthouse."

He narrows his eyes. "You don't remember the attack?"

She takes a sip of her drink and shakes her head. "Nothing."

"Swarek's been by," he adds quickly as though he wasn't going to mention it, but then thought the better of it.

"Oh." She puts her burger down on to the paper. "Did he bring his girlfriend with him?" She asks bitterly.

"You don't remember anything do you?" He asks, ignoring her question.

"Why?"

Tommy stands and brushes the creases from his pants. He's nervous and Andy isn't exactly sure why. "Traci'll be by soon. I'll let her tell you." He leans down and kisses his daughter on the forehead. "Just don't be so hard on Swarek. Okay?"

…

When Traci stops by, Andy is out of bed and pacing the length of her room. She's put on a pair of track pants and a t-shirt and is glad to be finally out of bed.

"Looking good, Andy!" She greets, putting her bag down on the bed to better envelop her friend in a hug. "You can barely see the bruises. How've you been feeling?"

"Better. Ready to get out of his room, that's for sure."

"I can imagine. When do you get to go home?"

"Tomorrow, apparently."

"That's great!" Traci takes the seat that had been occupied by Andy's father earlier in the day. "Did Swarek come and see you?"

Andy turns, surprised. She wonders why everyone keeps asking her that and when she says as much her voice comes out a little more pointed that she intends.

Traci holds up her hand. "Wait," she says. "You mean, you don't know?"

"Don't know what?" Andy climbs on to her bed and crosses her legs. "What's happened?"

Traci puffs out her cheeks and exhales. "A lot has happened Andy. A lot." She looks down at her hands, she's unsure how to proceed. "Tell me something first: Why did you call Cayetano Cruz the day you were attacked?"

Her face reddens. In truth, she'd called Cayetano because she was jealous of Marlo. She'd wanted to prove something to Sam, maybe in a misguided attempt at breaking them up. She'd hoped that if she could find a connection between an informant and Marlo that it would prove something. What, she's unsure of, but she remembers how she felt that night on the 11th floor and she suspects that that may have had something to do with it.

"I was trying to dig up dirt on Marlo," she replies, honestly. "When I found Cayetano's name in the system, I called him asking if he knew her."

"Why was his name in the system?" Traci asks. The way she words the question is purposeful, it's as though she knows the answer, but wants to hear Andy's take.

"He's a C.I."

She laughs. "Andy. He's not a C.I. I mean, not anymore. He was cut loose in 2010 for not upholding the conditions of his parole. Didn't you look at the cancellation date at the bottom of the page?"

Andy shakes her head, stunned. "No. I mean, I never printed it out, so I didn't even notice it. Then he's no one?"

Traci shrugs her shoulders. "I wouldn't say that he's _no one_," she says. "He _is_ Marlo's nephew. He's got a rap sheet for fraud, theft over 5000, weapons, drugs. You name it. But he was a part of the province's rehabilitation program because he was under 18 at the time of those crimes and _of course_ had a glowing recommendation from his police officer aunt. And guess where they placed him?"

"Where?"

"As a security guard in the evidence lock up. The very place where we keep _all_ the evidence for_ all_ the divisions. He signs people in and out. He manages the cameras. You name it, he takes care of it."

Her brow furrowed, Andy studies her friend. "So…?"

"So when you called him that day at the courthouse, he freaked. Called his aunt who then tracked you down and then attacked you."

Andy is startled, her hand goes to her neck where the thumb print bruises have faded to a yellowish hue. "Marlo?"

"Well," she says, pausing. "This is where Swarek comes in."

"Sam?"

"Yeah. It seems that the Drug Squad had been suspecting her of stealing from the evidence lock up for a while. It's why they transferred her to 15. They wanted to be able to tail her easier."

"What does this have to do with Sam?"

Traci looks down at her hands. "Maybe I should let him tell you."

"Trace— tell me. I need to know."

She sighs and meets her friend's eyes. "Apparently Blackstone blackmailed him. Or… made a deal with him. Depends who you ask. He was caught coming out of your UC apartment."

"Oh," she says, dragging the word out; she can barely believe what she's hearing.

"He told him they needed Swarek for an drug squad operation and that if he didn't agree he'd make sure you got fired."

"Fired?"

Traci nods. Andy has an idea of how Sam would've responded, knows innately that he'd throw himself on a sword if it meant saving her. She's stunned, it's impossible. It seems too fantastical to be true. _How far did he go to protect her? _

"What was the deal?" She asks slowly. She thinks she knows the answer, but needs to hear it from Traci.

"He agreed to date Marlo so that they could finally gather up enough evidence to arrest her," she says, matter-of-factly. Her voice softens. "He did it so you wouldn't get fired. He did it to protect you."

Andy pulls her legs to her chest and tucks her face into her knees. She's embarrassed that she's spent five months trying to hate Sam, finding reasons to stop loving him and trying to move on. Five months of being jealous and angry and all along it'd been a ruse. A ruse he'd gotten involved in because of her. He'd been doing it all _for her_. To save _her _and her job.

_It had all been for her._

Andy messily wipes at her face with the back of her hand. She hadn't realized that she'd been crying and straightens up, willing herself to pull it together. "Tell me more," she says, feigning strength. "What else?"

"Are you sure?" Traci asks, concerned.

"Yes," she nods. "I want to know."

Traci nods and continues. "Martino Rubino was Sam's contact in the Maras. Marlo had bugged Sam's desk and got wind of his source. She's connected to the Maras through her family. They've been using the evidence that both Cayetano and Marlo were getting from the lock up and selling it to members, across the border on the streets… Where ever. They manipulated the log in sheets and camera angles. When the Maras found out that Rubino was a snitch for Sam, they sent a message."

"The convenience store."

"The convenience store," Traci confirms.

"Where do I fit in in all this?" Andy asks.

"That's where it gets a bit hazy. Marlo's lawyered up, so we're not entirely certain, but we do know that Sam's desk was bugged. So Marlo probably picked up on anything you and Sam were secretly working on." Traci gives her friend a pointed look, a smile pushes at the corner of her lips. "Best guess is that when you called Cayetano she'd thought you were on to them. Wanted to put an end to you, I guess."

"But she got caught."

"She did," Traci says. "You're lucky to be alive, Andy. If Sam hadn't been there—"

"Sam was there? At the courthouse?'

Traci nods. "He'd followed Marlo there, discovered that you were testifying and put two and two together, I guess. He pulled her off of you. Made the arrest, called for an ambulance. You're here today, Andy, because of him."

Andy is speechless. She stares at her friend, unsure of what to say and how to even respond to this revelation.

Traci pulls a file from her bag. "I brought you his notes." She hands it to Andy, who immediately pulls it against her chest. "It might shed some light on a few things." Traci pauses, considering her next words. "He's come to see you— check in on you— every day, Andy," she says. "But he won't come in and talk to you. Doesn't think that you'd want to see him."

"But— why?"

She shrugs. "I think a part of him believes that you won't be able to forgive him. That you might blame him."

Andy closes her eyes, her fingers pressing against the sharp edge of the thick file. She thinks that maybe they've both been wrong about a lot of things over the past few months and that maybe it's time they put things right.

…

Sam is dragging a drunk & disorderly into bookings, when he sees her for the first time. She's talking to Oliver, her face all light and smiling. He's relieved to see that there doesn't seem to be a visible trace of the attack.

"McNally," he says, surprised. "First day back?"

Andy shakes her head. "No. Just came to visit. Say hi." She shrugs her shoulders. "See some people."

She directs the last part to him and he nods, not really sure what he should say. He decides on, "it's good to see you up and about." And it causes her to blush.

The silence between them is awkward and he's half forgotten that he's got a hold on a perp until Oliver steps forward and takes custody from him. "Lemme get that for you," he offers, a slight chuckle to his words.

Once alone, Andy moves toward him, her arms hugging her at her waist. "Do you have a few minutes? To talk?"

He nods. "Yah, sure." Sam motions with his head, "let's go outside."

She follows him into the parking lot and nervously bites at her lip. He leans against a parked squad car and she joins him.

"You're in uniform again," she says. She's not sure if it's a question or a statement, but she'd forgotten how much she loved seeing him in uniform and can't help pointing out the obvious.

"Yeah. I kind of like being out on the streets," he says, shrugging. "You been good? I mean… feeling okay?"

"Yeah." She's nervous; he can see it on her face and he wants to take her hand and reassure her. He resists, unsure of where he stands.

"Can I ask you something Sam?" She decides it's best to jump in with both feet, nervousness be damned. "Why didn't you tell me? About Blackstone, about Marlo, I mean…?"

He digs his toe into the pavement and crosses his arms against his chest. "They told you?" He mumbles under his breath, the words laden with guilt rather than accusation.

"Traci did. And I saw your reports in the case file. What you did for me…" She shakes her head in disbelief. "You're pretty much a hero." A smile tugs at her lips. "_My_ hero," she adds, nudging him teasingly with her elbow.

"Andy—" He stops himself and closes his eyes, trying to get his bearings. The air is thick in spite of the levity she attempts to bring to the conversation. He wonders why he wasn't more prepared and is reminded that she always catches him off guard.

He wants to correct her, tell her that he's nobody's hero but she interrupts him. "I'm not sure I'm worth it all," she adds quickly; her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes now focused toward the ground. Her heart is pounding so hard that she feels it all through her body.

He tugs at her sleeve, drawing her eyes toward his. "You're worth it to me," he says, honestly.

"Sam—" She shakes her head. "You didn't have to take Blackstone's deal. We could've figured it out."

He takes a deep breath and reaches toward her, runs the tips of his fingers against her cheek. His touch is unexpected and she gives a startled sound. Sam's face breaks into a small smile, choosing decidedly to leave his hand against her cheek. "If I loved you any less, Andy," he says at last. "I wouldn't have been able to do any of it."

She is agape, stunned into silence. She can barely breathe; every thought has left her mind and she stands focused on Sam's every word. He pulls his hand away and tucks it against his belt. "You make me a better cop— a better person," he corrects. "And I can't do this without you, Andy. I can't—"

She wonders briefly what he means by "this." She thinks it might be the job, but the blush of his cheeks makes her think he means life. Her heart thumps a little louder at the thought.

Andy moves toward him; her hands reach toward his face, pulling him near. She leans her forehead against his, silencing him. When his hands cover her own, holding them in place, her face breaks and in an instant she's filled with relief.

She _knows_ he means life.

"I love you too, Sam," she says, her mouth crescents into a smile that he thinks is contagious. Her lips brush against his.

_She's hesitant_, he thinks when she pulls away, her hands dropping to her side. But then, just as suddenly, she's tugging at his vest, pulling him close and she's kissing him again. It's braver, more urgent and it takes him by surprise. Relenting, he pulls her tight against him, his fingers lacing through the hair at the base of her neck.

Andy thinks she hears someone wolf whistle in the distance, but decides to ignore it. Instead, she rises to the tips of her toes to press into Sam harder. She feels liberated, it's as if months of weight have been lifted from her shoulders. She thinks he must feel the same when his breathing becomes laboured and his hand begins to slide up the back of her shirt; both momentarily forgetting their very public location.

It is only when they hear someone applauding nearby that they jump apart, startled. Andy tucks her chin into her neck and rubs the back of a finger against her swollen lips. They turn to the source of the sound and find Jacob Blackstone coming toward them, a cigarette tucked between his lips. She sees Sam's face darken and she lays her hand on his arm as if to ground him.

"No need to thank me," Blackstone says smugly, lifting his lighter to the cigarette. "I'm just glad to have helped."

Sam tilts his head toward Andy and says quietly, "I'll be right back." In a handful of strides, she watches as Sam raises his fist and connects it to Blackstone's face. There's a loud crack and Blackstone screams out in agony, his hand flying up to his bleeding nose, the cigarette and lighter flying to the ground. Sam calmly walks away as Blackstone holds his hand to his face, a few officers rushing to his aid.

When he returns to Andy, he smiles, oblivious to the carnage he's left behind. With laughter in his voice, he tugs Andy close again and says, "I've been wanting to do that for months."

"He had it coming," she agrees laughingly and pulls him back into a kiss.

_...Fin..._

_Please leave a review if you can! _


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